


Quiet

by angerwasallihad



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Books, Gen, New Caprica, letter writing fic, spaceparents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angerwasallihad/pseuds/angerwasallihad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A New Caprica Fic. Laura tries to sleep, haunted by the ghosts of what used to be, finding solace in letters and books from Bill. "It was the silence Laura couldn't get used to. The way the world seemed to just stop after night fell and everyone settled for the night. The cold, the rain, the food, even her newfound relative unimportance she could get used to. But not the silence."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

It was the silence Laura couldn’t get used to. The way the world seemed to just stop after night fell and everyone settled for the night. The cold, the rain, the food, even her newfound relative unimportance she could get used to. But the still silence of nighttime kept her up. 

 

Those first weeks on Colonial One had been similar. Marked with that same inability to settle down at night. She had tossed and turned for weeks on that couch until finally she had gotten used to the constant whirrs and movements of the ship, been able to quiet her own mind, find comfort in the dark emptiness outside the window. Or perhaps the exhaustion from her progressing illness had done it for her. She’d never been sure. 

 

Now, Laura had to find some way to get used to the quiet again. To long hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was strange, but somehow she found herself missing being awoken by the buzz of the phone or an aide in the dead of night. That first night, she had not been appreciative. 

 

_“The Commander for you, Madame President.”_

 

_She startled awake at Billy’s words, his young face hovering over hers in the dark. His use of the title still surprised her. It had only been a week, and the words still sounded foreign to her ears. Laura blinked several times tiredly as she processed his words finally._

 

_“The Commander is here? Now? What time is it?” She straightened on the couch, pulling a robe towards her in a bit of a panic._

 

_“No, sir, it’s fine. He’s not here.” Billy pointed to the receiver hooked on the wall._

 

_Laura calmed slightly and reached for the phone, thanking Billy quietly as he left. Trying hard not to sound at all tired or unfocused, she spoke into the receiver._

 

_“Commander. What can I do for you?”_

 

_“Madame President. We have a problem.”_

 

_His voice was sharp and irritated, and Laura groaned silently. That man and his moods would be the death of her. Well, if the cancer didn’t kill her first._

 

_“Yes, Commander. So I surmised.”_

 

_“Your civilian ships are clogging up the communication logs on Galactica with all sorts of requests for goods and services, and it’s interfering with the running of my ship,” Adama’s voice growled testily in her ear. “If you’re going to be in charge of the civilians, I’d suggest you start doing your job.”_

 

_Laura bristled at that. “Commander, I’m doing my job. This is an area where we’re going to have to work together.” She ran her fingers through her hair in irritation. “Galactica, as the leader of the fleet and one of the few ships able to produce and store supplies, is going to have to come up with some way to distribute and ration them to the civilians.” She heard a quiet grumble on the other end, but she pushed on. “This is something that should be on the agenda for our meeting later this week. In the meantime, I will make sure that the civilian ships funnel requests through Colonial One for the moment. Would that satisfy your concerns?” She held back her irritation at his insistence on bringing this up in the middle of the night._

 

_“Yes. Fine.”_

 

_And the line disconnected._

 

Late-night phone calls were not a part of her life anymore, however. She no longer had aides trailing after her or supply briefings piling up on her desk. Telecommunication was spotty at best, and some how seemed even more restricted for her. She’d been on the ground for two weeks now and had yet to speak to anyone even remotely politically or militarily connected. They were clearly avoiding her; there was no doubt in her mind that the new President was responsible. 

 

She shivered a little from her place on the bed, still trying to sleep. The silence still seemed to deafen her. 

 

_The raptor was both silent and thunderous in some way she couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it was the aftermath of her recent days on Kobol and the constant movement and tumult of the days before, but sitting in the raptor hurtling back into space seemed both quiet and reckless, calm and roaring._

 

_It was the way he was looking at her, wordlessly with one hand gingerly on his chest as he sat across from her. His eyes were boring into hers, seeming to look at her differently. It made her feel strange, as though he was looking straight through those carefully constructed barriers she had built long ago._

 

_“We need to make a public address,” he growled finally, the intensity dropping out of his gaze. “So there’s no confusion.”_

 

_She nodded silently and yawned. The noise of the raptor clearing the atmosphere suddenly rendered everyone inaudible, however, so she leaned back and closed her eyes, not waking until Billy shook her upon their arrival._

 

Giving up on sleep for the time being, Laura stepped out of her tent and settled on the ground, wrapped in a light blanket and shivering slightly. Leaning back, she looked up at the sky and just stared. The small blinking lights of the still-orbiting ships, the unfamiliar clusters of stars, the occasional wispy cloud all looked back at her in the silence. And she just stared. 

 

Back when she had been so sick, the noise of the ship had not bothered her. There was almost a comfort in the white noise all around. It had lulled her to sleep, even when she knew all that awaited her in sleep were disconcerting dreams and the prospect of awaking to a haze of tiredness again. The interruptions then had been her own; Billy didn’t dare disturb her for anything but an emergency when she’d been nearing the end. 

 

_She surfaced with a jump and a stifled scream, almost rising in the bed but finding her body unwilling to do so. There was something warm and soft weighing down her right hand. She squinted through the haze and saw that someone was sitting beside the bed in the dark._

 

_“Billy?”_

 

_Her voice was hoarse, higher than usual, and not much more than a whisper. But the word seemed to take all her energy again. She drew in a long, rattling breath and winced a little at the pain in her chest._

 

_“No. It’s Bill.”_

 

_Laura tried to move again, and the warm, soft weight tightened around her hand._ His _hand, she realized now. He slid closer to her, and his face came into focus._

 

_“I had to fire Billy,” he said softly, giving her a crooked little smile. “He was sleeping on the job.”_

 

_She smiled, starting to chuckle, but they quickly turned to a grimace and a coughing fit. Almost immediately, she felt Bill’s hand leave hers and come around her back to support a sitting position as his other hand reached for a glass of water. Clumsily, Laura reached for the glass and brought it to her lips, but his hand never released it, holding it steady despite her shaking hand._

 

_After a moment, she pushed the glass away and Bill made to settle her back on the pillows._

 

_“No. Wait,” she rasped quietly, stopping him. She touched her face and hair distractedly, looking around until Bill brought her glasses up to her searching hands and helped her slide them up her nose._

 

_“Bill,” she started again shakily, “you… should go… home.” She sagged a little against his supporting arm on her back and shoulders, but continued. “You’re too…busy.” She reached up and pulled her glasses unsteadily down her face again. She couldn’t remember why she had wanted them moments ago._

 

_“I’m fine right here,” she heard him whisper as he took her glasses from her hand again and settled her back against the pillows. He took her hand again and pulled the blanket back up to her chest. “Don’t worry about me. Get some sleep, Laura.”_

 

_Her eyes drifted closed, the sound of his breathing and the ship lulling her back to sleep._

 

Light suddenly streaked across the sky as Laura watched, slowly lighting the tents around her and dimming the stars above her. The settlement slowly came alive around her, forcing Laura back into the tent once more, another sleepless night behind her. 

 

A small brown-wrapped parcel awaited Laura when she returned from the schoolhouse that afternoon, tucked just inside the entrance to her tent. When she opened it, there was no doubt in her mind of the sender. “ _Once Upon A Midnight_ , by Sarah Jensen,” she whispered to herself, turning the new book in her hands. It was obviously from his collection, well-kept and well-read. She pulled open the front cover, and white paper fluttered out, covered in handwriting. 

 

_Laura,_

 

_I know “Murder on Picon” must be getting old again. Dee tells me there’s a book merchant on the surface, but from what I understand, his wares aren’t quite our style. This seemed more appropriate. I know it sounds a little trite, but give it a chance. There’s a woman in it who reminds me of you._

 

_You must be busy with the new school. I’m sure it’s better to be back in a classroom than wasting away up here with nothing to do. The Colonial One landed permanently last week, I’m sure you know. It’s strange to look out on the fleet without it._

 

_The ships keep landing on the surface, and I wonder if you were right. It seems too easy to just stop like this. We’ve been running for so long, though, and we had to stop someday. Some days I hope we’re both right and it all comes crashing down at the Doctor’s feet. Today I hope we’re wrong, though. It’s a life, and it’s not all bad._

 

_I hope you enjoy the book. And remember, it truly is a gift._

 

_Bill_

 

With the new book clutched in her hands that night, she finally slept. 

 

_Dear Bill,_

 

_I’m afraid your impression of me is rather inaccurate. Joanna is nothing like me. We both have red hair, but I’m afraid that’s where the similarities end. I can’t abide cats, and you know how I feel about guns. It was a wonderful read. You were right. Though it doesn’t quite seem your style. I’m not sure I can see this finding a place on your bookshelf or in your hands._

 

_The school is going strong now, after a month of fits and starts. You’re right, it does keep me busy, but I’m not sure that’s the reason I seem to scarcely see anyone from Galactica. It was warm enough to venture out last night for the first time since I arrived. There’s a beauty to this place I didn’t see before, the way the mountains cut across the sky and the smell just before a rain._

 

_You were right. The book seller at the market isn’t quite our style. What is it with air travel and romance novels? But I did a little digging, and hope this one is to your liking. “Bloody Valentine” may seem a little excessively feminine, but I read it first, and I think you’ll enjoy it._

 

_This, too, is a gift._

 

_Laura_

 

The quiet seemed somehow less deafening. 

 

_Laura,_

 

_I’m not sure I should let you pick the books. Or rather, you should find a better source than the market bookseller. Am I wrong, or did it smell a little odd? The story wasn’t bad, though. You were right._

 

_It’s quiet up here without the constant worry anymore. It’s strange to think that this might truly be our safe haven. It is not what was expected. I hope the cold is letting up. It must be nice to feel the sun after so long without it._

 

_Do you still get to hear the wireless? There was a broadcast earlier this week on the state of education. It was sorely missing your voice. I’m sure you would have brightened the airwaves considerably. You may be right; our mutual friend behind the desk is trying to hide you away._

 

_This newest book is a personal favorite. It’s less bloody than your last choice, but full of secrets._

 

_As always, it’s a gift._

 

_Bill_

 

And somehow, there was always someone trustworthy to carry her reply. 

 

_Bill,_

 

_It did smell a little off. I think we’re both glad that the last of the Falling Star colonists have landed, and with them came some quality literature. This is an old favorite of mine, and I know you’ll like it. I read it again this week for old time’s sake, and it was just as good as I remember. Perhaps we’re getting old. Our tastes seem to be veering away from the gore, favoring the conspiracies and drama._

 

_It is getting warmer. It’s been eight weeks, and each day seems warmer than the last. But the sun is strange here. It seems more distant than our sun in the Colonies. I’m not sure it will ever be warm here like that last day on Caprica. There was something in the air and the sun on that final day, like the Gods knew it would be our last day and they wanted it to be special._

 

_I thought I saw you the other day, taking a tour of the new building site. But somehow our paths never crossed. I worry a little about our new President; it must be hard to govern and keep me in check this way. I did hear that broadcast. I hope you didn’t believe a word of it._

 

_It’s never a loan with you._

 

_Laura_

 

The silence endured, but was somehow bearable.

 

_Dear Laura,_

 

_This new book source is much better. The odd smell has been replaced by something sweeter. It speaks of better and warmer times down there on the planet. I hope I’m right. “Tipping Point” was a wonderful choice. I never had the opportunity to read it before, and I’m so glad you found it. I understand why it’s your favorite. If we’re getting old, then I prefer it to being young; a mature taste has never lead me astray._

 

_I wish I had seen that last day on Caprica. Sun and sand are the things I miss most. Those days when the sun is bright enough to warm you up but not so hot that it scorches the sand beneath your feet._

 

_You did see me that day. I just wish you’d turned sooner. It’s nice to see you out of a suit, you seem happier. And your students clearly love you. Our mutual friend does seem to be stretching himself thin, keeping you at arm’s length. Clearly learning from my mistakes. A new letter calls for a new book, a classic this time. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it._

 

_Come what may, this will never be a loan._

 

_Bill_

 

Her dreams lost their nightmares. 

 

_Bill,_

 

_I’m glad the smell is gone. So much of the joy in literature lies in the smell of those pages. Your gift was perfect this time. Johnson Forde has always been a favorite author of mine, and I loved every moment of this work. I’m not sure I believe the ending, however. Sylvia didn’t have anything to live for, it’s true. But not having anyone and being suicidal are two different things. I think it strained credulity in the end._

 

_I’m sure you’ve seen me out of a suit before. Well, in a manner of speaking. I do wish you had said something, however. If I had known you were standing there watching me teach all that time, I might have looked up. I’m sure our friend would have cut short any conversation, however, so perhaps it was for the best._

 

_If you’re referring to your keeping me on as the president a “mistake,” I’m not sure I can agree. I’m just too close to be objective. Personally, I think it was those mistakes in the beginning that brought us here. This enclosed book may be a new favorite. I rescued it from a throwaway box two doors down, and it is wonderful. I believe I’ve counteracted any smell that may have lingered. Though honestly, with that mustache I caught a glimpse of, I hardly think it matters._

 

_It’s always a gift for you._

 

_Laura_

 

The darkness wasn’t intimidating. And she slept. 

 

Laura lived with the quiet, eventually, reading herself to sleep each night to fill the void. But it was the noise and activity that soothed her. The not-quite-chaotic clatters and shouts in her classroom, the bubbling laughter of that little stream in the mountains she loved, the cacophony of birds outside her tent in the morning. She loved the singing and dancing of a party in the background, the flurry of Founder’s Day activity. But more than that she loved the rumble of his breathing under her cheek, and the way she slept so effortlessly. 

 

She loved all the noise on New Caprica until quite suddenly, she didn’t. 

 

* * *

 

She heard it before she saw anything or had the slightest inkling of what was unfolding. That high pitched, mechanical roar that didn’t come from human technology. Then came the screams, the chaos and madness as the sky seemed to crash down around them. Instinctively, she looked up at the place where she knew the Galactica had been moments before. It was gone. Her hands slowly came up to her ears as she corralled the remaining students back into the tent. 

 

What she would trade for silence again. 

 

_Dear Bill,_

 

_I know you’ll never read this. A part of me thinks it’s better this way. Better that you left, so you don’t have to watch your people perish this way. And I want you to know that you did the right thing. You saved the people you could, and that’s what matters. The survival of our people. This is not a decision for you to second-guess._

 

_Do you remember what I told you about that last day on Caprica? The way the sun shone so lovingly, it was as if the Gods themselves had given us this one final beautifully perfect day to remember? I wish I could say the same for today. There’s a chill passing through us as we huddle in a corner, waiting for the end to come. It’s a cold that seeps into our very bones, the children and mine alike. We can’t shake it, even as the ground seems to tremble with the commotion all around us._

 

_I saved you one last book. It’s a classic, “Down With the Tide.” I hope some day you’ll read it. The story is after your own heart, with heroes and villains and battles and secrets. I’ve left it in our hiding place. I know you’ll come back one day to see what became of us, Bill. I just pray you aren’t to hard on yourself. Take comfort in the fact that you succeeded where the rest of us failed. You found Earth. I have faith in you. Have faith in yourself._

 

_It’s always been here for you, Bill, waiting. It’s a gift._

 

_Laura_

 

And yet somehow, inexplicably, they didn’t all die that day. 

 

_Dear Bill,_

 

_Your next book is still waiting for you. We picked our place well. And for reasons I can’t explain, I’m still here to watch over it. I found you a new one for this week, too. Someone on our mutual friend’s staff keeps tossing books into the alley beyond the barrier. It’s intentional, I know, but I wish I knew who it was. Today it was something rather worn, “A Song For Tomorrow.” I’ve been reading it first, taking it to school with me, keeping it close. I know how you like them to smell. No trace of an odd odor anymore._

 

_I wonder if you know we’re still here. That they haven’t eradicated us like you and I would have believed. I hope you do, and yet I pray that you don’t. The path to Earth is ahead of you. Don’t waver from it. Don’t come back for us. There is nothing for you here._

 

_The cold keeps rolling in, down from the mountains. Some days I wonder if that spot I told you about still looks as pretty in the cold like this. If the stream still flows and the water stays clear. There’s no cabin there, I know. And yet sometimes I think I can almost see a shadow of it when I look north. It gives me hope._

 

_I can’t lend books anymore. It’s a gift._

 

_Laura_

 

There was no more unsettling quiet. There was only constant activity, sights and sounds. It was these that unsettled her now and kept her from sleep. 

 

_Bill,_

 

_Little Johnny lost a finger today. Do you remember him? He asked if he could fly a viper someday that last afternoon you visited. You told him he could if he paid attention in school. Doc Cottle had to cut off his finger today. Can you imagine? Losing a finger from a glorified paper cut? That playful light is gone from his eyes. It’s gone from all of their eyes. Fear has stolen their childhood._

 

_The sun doesn’t shine anymore. Not like it did that day. You know the one I mean. Instead it seems to splutter and whine, casting no shadows, bringing no warmth, hiding from our expectant faces behind an endless curtain of clouds. Do you remember how it was on Kobol? The way it rained and stormed while we shivered in the mountains? There was a beauty in the misery. The green places all around us, embracing us. The way we could smell the rain and the growth. The sun shining through and warming us when the storms finally stopped. There is no beauty in the misery here._

 

_I found our next book today. It’s another Detective story. I know how you love them. I’m saving it for you, in our little place. Some days I think maybe I will see you again. There’s a strange sort of hope in the way they beat us into submission rather than just wiping us out. Are you out there, Bill? Waiting for the right moment? Our people are waiting here, for you._

 

_I miss finding gifts from you._

 

_Laura_

 

The constant mechanical crunches of their captors haunted them all. No amount of white noise could lull her to sleep now. She longed for silence again. 

 

_Bill,_

 

_People disappear into our Betrayer’s prisons. They are taken in the dead of night and never come out. It’s sickening to think of how merrily we celebrated the groundbreaking of our own prison cells. We have nothing to be merry about now. I see only fear in my classroom where I used to see joy._

 

_There are rumblings of a resistance forming, lead by our old friends. It gives me hope. Hope that  we’ll last. I don’t know why we’re still here. Why our enemies beat us rather than kill us. But fighting back is all we have left. You remember how I feel about guns and bombs. I never thought the prospect of violence would bring me hope._

 

_We don’t blame you for leaving. I have faith that you haven’t forgotten us. That you know we’re here, waiting for you. Fighting again for our right to survive. You’re falling behind in your reading, Bill. I hope someday you can catch up. This one I know you’ll like; there’s a redhead with a gun on the loose. I know someday we can talk about your little idiosyncrasy again._

 

_Still waiting for another gift,_

 

_Laura_

 

The weeks turned to months, and still the quiet of sleep eluded her. The nights were full of mechanical creaks and screams, until not even Bill’s old gifts could soothe her to sleep. 

 

_Dear Bill,_

 

_We lost three children today. They were shot dead in the house of the Gods. They weren’t killed by our captors the Cylons, however. Human collaborators have joined our enemies. And I can’t fathom this betrayal. We fight back as best we can, but how do we fight an enemy that can never die? Our soldiers bleed thickly into the soil in this hellish place, fighting for the right to be human, while their opponents creak and crunch and resurrect. It never ends. Not unless something changes._

 

_You know I always think the Gods are watching us, this last band of humans here and you all wherever you are. But I wonder. What sort of deities would unleash this sort of wrath upon us?_

_Do you remember what you said, that first day on the Galactica? That the human race can no longer wash our hands and forget the things that we’ve done. That we never asked if we were a race worthy of survival. We just accepted it. But when do we prove our worth? How long must we fight to earn the right to live?_

 

_I remember we read something once, back when you were just a raptor flight away, up there in the sky. I took it out and read it again this week. That lovely novel by Johnson Forde. Do you remember? In those last moments before Sylvia died, she couldn’t think of anything to live for. But we do have something to live for. I know you won’t forget us, Bill. Hurry. There’s a new book waiting for you._

 

_Keep it. It’s yours._

 

_Laura_

 

But the noise never stopped. If anything, it got louder. 

 

_Bill,_

 

_The constant conflict is beginning to wear thin. Saul has been missing for weeks, swallowed up by that concrete prison. Our hope for any end other than death grows weaker each passing day. Our world is shaken by the flying bullets and debris. There is no silence anymore, not even when the dust settles after each conflict. My classroom is shrinking, the way our people are dwindling. The resistance still gives me hope, however._

 

_One of my students asked me why I wasn’t the president anymore today. I didn’t quite tell her the truth. Bill, I’m not sure if we’ll ever get out of this. We may just fight until we have nothing left, against an enemy that only grows. But what I do know is that I’m not the same person I was before. I’ve seen things. I’ve done things._

 

_I hope you know that we’re here, waiting for you, Bill. That we’re ready. That you haven’t given up on us the way so many down here have given up on you. We keep fighting, searching for our right to survive. And the books will keep coming. This one you’ll like, though I’m afraid it’s proof positive that we’re getting old. I’ll save it for you. Come back soon, Bill._

 

_Don’t worry. It will never be a loan._

 

_Laura_

 

Until suddenly, things spiraled out of control and no amount of quiet could save her. 

 

_Dear Bill,_

 

_I know you will come back for our people. I’ve never doubted it. I just hope I’m here to see it. The conflict has reached a boiling point, and things have turned chaotic. I saw things. I heard things. I felt things. And I know the horror of that prison we danced so happily around. I feel a confrontation coming, the way I used to smell the rain. Fighting is our only option; the human race must survive. But I’m no longer sure if I will survive._

 

_I almost died once. No, not from cancer, but years ago. I was just a child, and I fell into a lake and nearly drowned. It was agony, I remember, with my lungs screaming against the water, my arms and legs flapping in a panic. But there was a moment, when it all became too much and I thought I really would die; a moment of clarity. I could see the beauty of the water around me and the sky above me. And it was perfect. I hope I find that clarity again when the end comes. And I pray that it isn’t here._

 

_I found us one last book, in case I’m right. In case we miss each other on this hellish planet. You know how I get these feelings. But I’ve left you one last thing to share. And I know you’ll find it with the others. I know they’ll give you hope while you lead our people, just as they did for me._

 

_They were always for you. Waiting._

 

_Laura_

 

And finally, silence. 

 

But not the silence she’d expected. She’d truly thought the end was coming for her. And it was, in a way. An end to a terrible chapter, not her life. It was unexpectedly quiet on the raptor. No one spoke. No one moved. Just the soft hum of the engine and the beating of her own heart. As they neared their destination, a voice finally crackled through, breaking the silence as they approached the landing bay. Laura wasn’t listening, holding tight to the large parcel in her lap. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her as the raptor slowly came to a stop and began to sink, but she fought it, hard, and won. She was never one to admit defeat if she could help it. 

 

Finally the bright lights of the landing bay streamed into the raptor, the door slowly rising as she got to her feet, blinking against the sudden light. Before her eyes could fully adjust, strong hands were leading her carefully down from the ship. She smelled him before she truly saw him, that mix of shaving cream and toothpaste rising above the unpleasant smell of dirt on her own clothing and fuel lingering all around them. 

 

Taking him in at last, she saw he had kept the fussy little mustache. It still seemed a little odd on his face, but not unattractive. 

 

“Admiral,” she said finally, nodding in his direction. 

 

He was quiet for a moment, looking down at her with his hand still on her arm, facing her. 

 

“It’s good to see you.” 

 

The deck had fallen unnaturally silent as they stood there, facing each other. Eventually she hoisted the slightly bulky package more comfortably in her arms, and the moment broke. With one hand hovering just behind her back, his other dropped from her arm and he lead her across the deck and into the corridor. They maneuvered the halls of Galactica in silence, ignoring the looks of passers-by. 

 

Bill lead her over the threshold of his quarters first, pulling the hatch closed as he followed. They stood in comfortable silence just inside the hatch, until Bill reached to finally relieve her of the parcel in her arms. He weighed it in his hands, just as she began to speak at last. 

 

“It’s a—“ 

 

“Gift. I know.” He placed it on the table behind him and smiled. “Yours are just there,” he whispered, pointing to a similarly-sized stack of books next to the hatch. Stepping closer to her, his hand came up to her cheek. A single tear rolled down it as he finally pulled her into his arms. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, face turned outwards as he whispered into her hair. 

 

“We never lend books.” 

 

And finally, she slept. 


End file.
